


Monster Manor

by Hyloch



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25227742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyloch/pseuds/Hyloch
Summary: A problem arises in a quaint hamlet, one best solved by action.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Monster Manor

A monster lives in that manor on the hill. That old, decrepit, and rickety manor behind the rusty iron bars with vines curling and twisting their way over window panes and the like. That is where the monster lives. Or at least this is what the children tell their parents in the small town of Hersh: an old town with a small school, a small town hall, and even a small park surrounded by everyone’s cozy homes.  
“There’s a monster in there,” the children would claim when they returned from the park, from which the manor on the crest of the hill could be seen. “It’s small and green with slime everywhere,” one would say.  
“No,” argues another, “it’s old and wrinkly with a lizard’s tail.”  
And still, a third would retort with, “No, it's not; it looks like us with a mouth and eyes spattered with red paint.” On and on the children of Hersh would argue on how the monster looked while the parents would stand amongst one another, applauding their own child's imagination.

The descriptions continued to become stranger, more unusual, and more horrific. This monster of the manor began to have horns, claws, even skeletal wings. Tales escalated to a wretched beast dressed in blood and rot. The parents of Hersh began to worry for their children, the kids now having nightmares of this monster—terrible and vivid night terrors that made the adults consider that perhaps there could be a monster up in that manor on the hill. The adults held a gathering one night in the Town Hall; they spoke of what might be done to help their children, what could stop these night terrors, and their talks of monsters.  
“Take down the manor!” Beth, mother to the Jerl twins, flared out. “Surely that will put an end to these stories!”  
“And how,” replied Mr. Alev, the town’s lone schoolteacher, “do we take it down? There is no machinery up to that job in this little town of ours.” The other adults quieted then, a thoughtful feeling sweeping through them as each began pondering this task. They could do it by hand all knew, but that would take time and no parent wanted their children to suffer any longer.  
It was then that Cole, the town’s handyman—a haggard fellow with scruff coating his face—shuffled forward. “I,” he began, with a long, hesitant drawl, “I, have an idea.”

While the town hall was in use, the adults’ discussion only just begun, the children of Hersh gathered at the park with a somber and worried feeling crowded around each of them. The oldest among them, a brawny tike of twelve with the name of Nick, took his place atop the monkey bars in plain view of all others.  
“We have to do something,” he started. “The adults haven’t done anything no matter what we’ve told them—if they won’t help us, we’ll have to help ourselves.” The gathering of children looked up at him, tentative anger and frustration stoking amongst them with his growing words.  
“What do we do?” cried Aidan, he stood shivering beside the monkey bars, his arms wrapped around himself; the bags under his eyes marked him as a victim of the night terrors.  
“We kick the monster out,” said the self-appointed leader, Nick, simply.  
“Kick it out?” asked Fia, a small girl of about eight whose arms were covered in scratches both old and new: remnants of her own night terrors. Her chipped nails dug into the mulch she sat upon as her shy question brought attention to her.  
“We go in there and kick the monster out,” Nick repeated with a bit more force as he jumped down from his spot in a show of strength. “What is one monster against all of us?” The children looked amongst themselves, assessing their numbers. Doubt began to fade with determination taking its place—‘We can do this.’ rang the thoughts in all their little minds. 

As one, the children began their trek from the familiarity of the playground, approaching the hill where the monster manor sat in the looming dark. They slipped through the rusty iron fence, a creak or rattle being the only noise accompanying their shuffling feet. A few looked through dusty and cracked windows with fear sparking in their heads, but the slow moving crowd compelled their feet forward. Nick, who had spoken so courageously earlier, led the pack to the door, showing more bravery than he felt. With noticeable hesitation he grasped the doorknob with a twist and small push. All of the children of Hersh watched as the door swung in without a sound. The leader was the first to cross the threshold, stepping into a large wooden parlor—a smoky glass chandelier, slowly swinging, hung from the ceiling. Gradually the other children followed, eyes roaming for any signs of their monster. Not a word was exchanged as the kids drifted beyond the parlor into the other rooms, dividing up as they went through the abode the monster was thought to be in. An undercurrent of fear followed their motions as the aged house groaned and shuddered in tune. With no furniture left untouched and no closet door left unopened, the monster was not to be seen—not in the kitchen, not in the library, nor even in the bedrooms. 

“It’s in the basement,” Nick said with finality as they again convened in the parlor, looking at the last door left alone during their fruitless search.  
“Are you sure?” asked a child with the name of Tina, fear alight in her words.  
“There’s nowhere else it could be, and now it has nowhere else it can hide,” Nick retorted, already moving to the door. He grasped the doorknob, and unlike the front door, this one did not open easily. He and another pushed against its unyielding tinder with all their might before it finally swung open with a loud screech.  
“We’re going to get that monster.” He huffed, as he began to walk down the creaky wooden stairs, the rest quickly followed, wary of being left behind. 

And so they stood beyond the basement stairs looking amongst this empty cellar for anything hiding with the shadows. The sound of metal breaking and a rusty groaning was heard from behind them, beyond the front door, and as one they turned to look back up the stairs.  
“Hide!” Nick whispered fiercely, “we’ll grab it when it comes down here.” With his words, the children flared into action and scurried to the far corners of the cellar, basked in shadow and gloom where the night might cover them best. This is where they stayed as they heard the footsteps within the house when they heard liquid sloshing and being thrown within every room ‘What is it doing?’ they all wondered. They stayed in their spots even when they heard the steps exiting the house and the front door swing shut with an echoing bang. 

They all gathered at the bottom of the stairs again, some wrinkling their noses as an odd smell embraced their huddle. A sound some couldn’t recognize greeted them, a crackling and hissing noise; few others would liken it to the sound of a campfire. In seconds they were greeted by the monster of the manor, but this monster was not a beast, not bloody, and not grotesque—but it was fast, it was bright, and it was roaring at them. It danced at the top of the cellar stairs, a flickering mixture of scarlet, gold, and ginger swaying without a care. This monster raced through the house at speeds unbelievable, the wood beneath its feet cracking and snapping with every step. Not a board, a chair, or a wall was left unmarred by its incandescent caress—its burning hunger. The children suddenly realized this was a monster they could not beat, could not douse, and could not stop. They screamed; they begged and pleaded as the monster began its descent of the stairs, their voices kindling the monster’s own.

Outside the adults gathered at the iron fence watching with satisfaction as the manor went up in flames, fire licking every corner of the house. They congratulated themselves as the fire spit and hissed while the manor began to shudder and shake. With a defeated groan the manor fell in, igniting the flames higher. The adults left then, content to let the house turn to ashes, and assured of their own safety given its distance from anything else. And so they returned to their homes, warmed by the knowledge that their children would finally be safe.

Morning found the small town of Hersh in an uproar, adults running from place to place, screaming, crying, even cursing, and questioning where their children had gone. As the yelling reached a crescendo a small voice drifted from the park—the adult who had voiced his idea of burning the manor down. Cole, his sorrow-filled sight fixed solely on the smoldering remains of the manor that once stood on the hill, breathed out a single unsteady phrase, “Perhaps the monster got them…”


End file.
